I told him I'm your worst nightmare
by LePipi
Summary: When the merriest of times are left dark, you just might find your candle of light. Thief!Dean Assassin!Cas   it's fluff I swear


I told him "I'm your worst nightmare"

_This is hell you don't ever have to fight fair._

Christmas eve...

Whoop-dee-fucking-doo.

Dean stubbed his cigarette in the overflowing ashtray, immediately lighting up another. He coughed slightly at the rawness of his throat but inhaled the burning sensation. He'd rather feel anything right now, then 'Christmas cheer'.

See, Christmas was never a good thing for Dean.

All of his memories went around cheap diner food, his mother crying, his drunken father splayed on the couch, and his brother, Sammy cowering in the corner.

While he... He found himself in the middle of it.

Just watching, never doing anything about it.

Until after his mother's death, and then his father's he started doing something about it.

He started stealing.

At the beginning, when he was a teenager and all he had was Sam and the Impala, it was small things.

Some food, some toilet paper, some water.

Years later he started realizing that, hey they needed more! They weren't animals abandoned by society!

So he started stealing tooth-paste, shaving cream, razors, shampoo, clothes.

Soon his taste's sharpened, so he started stealing the **nice** kind of tooth-paste, the **nice **kind of shaving cream, his **favorite **foods...

Stealing was never a hardship. You'd just have to wink at a pair of plastic jugs with blond hair and you're there! Of course the sex came first, but come on that was never a downer.

The ironic thing is , that's how Dean found out he was gay. After a time, while locating his next pray in some dingy bar, he'd find himself eyeing the rugged, depressed looking men as they swirled a glass of whiskey.

But, he'd never slept with a man.

Sleeping with a woman is easy. No emotions, no attraction, just flip her over and think of that lonely guy with the sweaty arm-pits.

But sleeping with a man, when you know it's something you want, something you're willing to give completely and ask the same in return, it's not that simple.

First of all because it can't be with any man. Second because he's not in the right state of life, to give **love **a try. Third, because love is something that you can't steal. It has to be given.

But then, Sammy left... Wanted to give college a try, stealing was wrong, and what-not.

So now, on Christmas eve this is all he has left. His dad's leather jacket, the keys to the Impala in his pocket, a pack of Lucky's and a shot of whiskey.

And boy, those this feel lonely.

Some random women were screaming, dancing over the front, some men urging them on whistling and what not. With this kind of distraction he could easily slip his hands into their pockets, fish himself a wallet or two.

They probably deserve it with their feather brains.

But what's the point?

What is he gonna do with the money? Buy a bottle of scotch with no one to share it? Rent himself some Bruce Willis DVDs and watch them alone? Buy some lube and fuck himself in the vastness of his motel room?

He'd had enough of that as it is.

His dark thoughts were cut short when a man sat two tables ahead of him. He sat his back turned to the crowd instead facing the wall, giving Dean a clear look at his profile from the corner where he was seated.

The man looked around his age, a little older perhaps. Or it might have been that tired look on his face, like he'd had enough of life as it is. He'd had very rumpled hair, sticking out in every angle, heavy bags under his eyes, sharp nose and dipped chin. He wore what seemed to be trench-coat, and a-, an office suit beneath? Weird.

Nonetheless Dean found himself staring, examining, questioning the posiblities of this man's life, his motive to come here on Christmas eve.

Suddenly a loud yelp erupted from the scene up front. He turned his eyes to the three women trapped in the arms of big, sweaty men, kicking with their legs in the air, screaming for help, but silenced with rough hands over their mouths. The men bare maniacal grins, leering at the trapped women.

As soon as he stood up, he saw the other man, the trench-coat wearing one rustle in front of him and to the scene at hand.

"Let go of the women." –He said in a startlingly deep voice.

"Yeah? Why should we? –" The men turned their attention to him, looking pleased at the option of a fight.

"He said let go of them!" –Dean found his voice and came to stand behind the man, who chanced him a glance and all he saw was **blue, blue****,**** blue.**

"Looks like we'll get us a fag-bashing boys!" –One of the men, a scrawny one with a mullet rumpled and all the men cheered as they stepped forward.

But Dean was quick to dodge a fist, and quicker to inflict one himself, feeling his knuckles connecting heavily with a row of teeth. Another man was quick to follow, but unsuccessfully as Dean fought back with every trick in the book.

Finally, being caught of guard he saw a man swing a crowbar at him, he closed his eyes in expectation of dull pain, but he was met with nothing.

Opening his eyes he saw... Nothing. But the floor was a sight to behold. A row of bodies, broken and oozing blood covered the floor.

"The women escaped. You should go too." –The trench-coat dude said and Dean finally managed to shift his eyes from the gore and back to him. Who seemingly held a blood slicked knife.

"You..."

"Yes. I did this. Leave, now." –The man said as if explaining to a baby, but without the patience.

"No, I mean..." –But what did he mean? "Why?" –Which was the stupidest question he could think off. He, himself could see the reasons behind it.

"Because if not them, they would have found others. Evil is inescapable." –He huffed as if exasperated. " I don't need to explain myself. Just leave. I'll clean this up." –He said dismissively, and ran the knife through the inner side of his coat, cleaning it up.

"No way I'm letting you clean this up yourself." –It was the only sensible thing to say in Dean's mind.

"What?" –The man said with a very confused look on his face, brows scrunched together. He would have found it adorable if it weren't for the knife in his hand.

"I'm helping you with this. You helped me when that guy came with the crowbar, now I'm helping you with... cleaning." –Cleaning you know, like dusting, washing... getting rid of dead bodies...

"No, you are not! You didn't need to see this! You are in shock and don't know what to do! Leave!" –The man practically screamed the words in Dean's face.

Dean only found he liked the man's eyes even more from up close.

"What's your name?" –He asked instead, choosing to ignore the outburst.

"C-Castiel..." –The man, Castiel said, seeming to deflate from his previous angry stance.

"I'm Dean. And I want to help."

-/-

"So what, you're like James Bond or something? License to kill and all?" –Dean chuckled as he drank his beer as they sat, tired from dragging away the bodies and cleaning the blood.

"James Bond was not an assassin. Neither am I. Nor do I have a license. I simply..." –He sighed tiredly, leaning against his chair. " The people I kill, Dean... The people they send me to kill I... I wish I didn't have to do it..." –Castiel confessed, trailing a hand over his face.

"Then why do you?" –Dean prompted, eager to listen to this enthralling man's story.

"I'm stuck... That's it it's, that simple..." –Castiel chuckled humorlessly taking a sip from his beer.

"Don't say that..." –Dean whispered with a wince.

"Why? Why do you care, Dean?" –Castiel asked, leaning into Dean, looking instensly into his eyes.

Dean sucked in a breath from the proximity of Castiel of his warmth, just a breath away...

"Because I'm stuck too..." –Dean gave his own confession like defeated.

"How?" –Castiel asked quietly, keeping the intimacy of the moment.

"I'm a thief. I-I used to steal for my brother but now... I'm alone. Stuck." –Dean voiced tentatively.

"I don't want to be alone." –Castiel said softly.

"Me neither..." –And with that Castiel closed the distance between them in a crushing kiss.

A kiss that spoke of decades of loneliness and want and just... love.

Dean felt every single emotion flutter beneath their kiss, and he found love in there. He took Castiel in his hands sliding in his lap willing to give everything in the moment. Willing to give his love.

**So there will be another chapter to this, a new Years eve one, but that's to come!**

**For now Merry Christmas everyone! My Christmas comes on January 6th but I know that for a lot of you its today! So have a good one, and if it's not good then don't worry you have destiel to keep you smiling! :D I just wanted to portray some bittersweet love in here so yeah! :D**


End file.
